


I Am What I Am

by Hammocker



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Miles has problems, Relationship Issues, Working things out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-16 16:35:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10575225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammocker/pseuds/Hammocker
Summary: Waylon loved Eddie, really and truly, and never wanted to upset him. That fact made it very difficult to set boundaries.(Formerly titled "Five Times Waylon Said No." Thought the old title was too on-the-nose.)





	1. Dresses

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I'd never write a 5+1, but here we are. I can't help myself. I just want Waylon to tell Eddie off all the damn time. Do you want Waylon to maintain his masculinity despite Eddie's wants? Then this is the fic for you.

Waylon was curled up on the couch at Eddie’s side, loving the protective arm around his back. The television was on, but the volume was quiet and neither of them were really watching anyway. Waylon was on the cusp of falling asleep. Everything around him was a blanket of comfort; Eddie’s heat at his side, broken-in t-shirt and sweatpants on his back, and his familiar spot on the sofa below him. If anywhere was a nice place to fall asleep, it was here. Even if he did, Waylon knew that Eddie would carry him off to bed later. Everything was just perfect.

And then Eddie decided to throw that off. Waylon’s attention was grabbed first by the TV clicking off then by Eddie speaking.

“Darling, I have something for you,” Eddie whispered in his ear. “Wait here, please.”

In an instant, Eddie’s arms were off of him and Waylon was left out in the cold with an even colder panic in his brain. He listened as Eddie trudged out of the room and to parts unknown. Please, God, let it not be what he thought it was going to be. Waylon sat back and allowed his lungs to deflate, barely breathing at all as he waited. He liked Eddie’s gifts, he liked being provided for, and he truly appreciated the thought. He just got tired of all the-

Eddie’s footsteps thumped back into their living room, and Waylon reminded himself to breathe. Eddie stepped up in front of him, holding a too-familiar white box. Oh God, how was he gonna explain this one?

“Have a look,” Eddie said, offering the box to him.

Waylon mustered a smile and accepted it into his lap. He opened it slowly, keenly aware of Eddie taking a seat next to him. Inside, delicate tissue paper wrapped around what awaited him, and Waylon unfolded it with care. Sure enough, once he found the center, there sat a folded dress. The colors were soft, warm hues, not quite pink, but not quite red either, and almost orange at the hems. Waylon didn’t know anything about fabrics or stitching or tailoring of any kind, but he could tell that it was a fine thing, a little too fine even

“Would you try it on for me?” Eddie asked, voice low and husky. “You’d look absolutely stunning.”

It was a beautiful dress, but Eddie had barely let him wear anything but dresses over the past week. If he’d been in the house, he’d been in a dress and some kind of lingerie, panties and garters and stockings. Waylon was very much enjoying wearing pants and a t-shirt. He didn’t want to turn Eddie down, but he couldn’t wear another.

“No,” Waylon said, giving Eddie a gentle, pleading stare. “Thank you, but no, not now.”

Eddie blinked, his smile remaining for a couple seconds as though he couldn’t comprehend what Waylon had just said. Slowly, though, a frown came over his face. He glanced from Waylon to the dress, confusion wrinkling his face.

“Is- is there something wrong with it?”

“No, no, it’s amazing.” As he spoke, Waylon set the dress aside, hoping that he wouldn’t send mixed messages.

“Do you not like the color?” Eddie pushed. “I could rework the design.”

Waylon tensed up a bit at the seemingly calm uncertainty Eddie was showing. It might have been genuine, but Waylon’s gut knew that there was a good chance Eddie was seething. He’d never really had to say no to Eddie before.

“The colors are gorgeous,” Waylon said, a nervous giggle working its way into his voice. “Anyone worth their salt would kill to have something like this.”

“Then why won’t you wear it for me?” Eddie asked, his voice edging closer and closer to betraying his frustration. “Don’t you like the things I make for you? I thought-”

“I love the dresses,” Waylon said, reaching over to grasp Eddie’s hand. “Really, I do. I’ll absolutely wear this one at some point, but I don’t want to now.”

“Why?”

“I start to miss pants.” Waylon cracked a smile in an effort to diffuse tension. “And cotton t-shirts I don’t have to worry about ruining. And underwear that fits.”

Eddie’s frown only seemed to deepen and his eyes drifted away from Waylon. “I could make you a cotton dress.”

Waylon leaned farther over to put his arms around Eddie. He wasn’t immediately shoved away, but Eddie wasn’t jumping to return the favor either.

“And I’d love that too,” he said, pushing his head against Eddie’s shoulder. “I like what you make for me, Eddie, but sometimes I just want to wear clothes that feel like- well, like they’re mine.”

“The wardrobe I’ve given you doesn’t feel like yours?”

“It’s- different,” Waylon said when no other words could describe how he felt about those clothes. “I like it, but I only started wearing women’s clothing after I met you, so it’s different. I want to wear what I’m used to most of the time, that’s all.”

Silence stretched between them for a long moment. Waylon feared for a split second that Eddie might fly off the handle at him, yell and lash out. He knew Eddie wasn’t like that, wasn’t that volatile, even after all he’d been through, but he couldn’t help the worry. 

The same warm, welcoming arm from earlier put his fears to rest, wrapping around him and pulling him flush against Eddie. All the love he’d ever shown Waylon was still right there, no matter the circumstances.

“I understand,” Eddie said, a little mournful, but not unempathetic. He petted down Waylon’s back, showing a gentle concern for the fabric separating their skin.

“Thank you.”

Waylon hummed and brushed his knee up against Eddie’s.

“Carry me to bed?” he said, lifting his head up to bat his eyelashes at Eddie.

Something sparked in Eddie’s eyes, something dark and hungry, but not necessarily threatening. Waylon felt heat pool between his legs at the look Eddie gave him.

“Minx,” Eddie growled, gathering Waylon up in his arms and hauling him up.

Waylon wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck and let himself crack a playful smile. Eddie might have his baggage and his emotional issues, but, when push came to shove, he was always more than happy to invite Waylon into his bed. How could Waylon say no to that?


	2. Shaving

Waylon patted away stray flecks of shaving cream from his face, blinking sleep out of his eyes. He smiled at himself in the mirror, feeling pretty good about himself. He’d showered and shaved leaving himself pleasantly clean, and Eddie’s house was always so much quieter in the morning than he and Miles’ shared apartment. 

The quiet made it easy to tell as Eddie crossed through the bedroom towards the en suite. Waylon could practically feel Eddie’s weight as he walked, feel the vibrations in the floor. He was completely naked still, but Waylon wasn’t self-conscious for even a second. He looked up just in time to find Eddie darkening the doorway, still dressed in only his night pants.

“Darling,” he greeted Waylon, voice still heady with sleep. “Aren’t you beautiful?”

“Hey,” Waylon said, smile widening as Eddie came up behind him and wrapped an arm around his middle.

He reached down to place his own arm over Eddie’s and grip his hand. Eddie leaned down to kiss the side of his forehead and, to Waylon’s surprise, used to free hand to stroke Waylon’s tender cheeks. Waylon gave a meek whimper, but Eddie wasn’t letting up.

“Your skin is so soft,” he crooned. “Beneath all the scruff… Stunning.”

“I’m not that scruffy,” Waylon said, managing a laugh despite the soreness.

“Imagine how the rest of you would feel.” Eddie’s hands trailed down to his lightly furred chest, tapping impatient fingers there. “We both could feel how smooth it is without all this- fuzz in the way.”

“I- I could wax my chest. I guess.”

Waylon wasn’t really that eager to strip the hair off of his body any more than he had to, but he didn’t mind it too much, he supposed. It would be strange without his chest hair, but it wasn’t unacceptable. But Eddie wasn’t done.

Eddie’s hand drifted down even farther past his belly, his fingers brushing through Waylon’s pubic hair.

“And wouldn’t you feel so much tidier without these?”

That was when Waylon really tensed up. He swallowed thickly. Shaving or waxing away his pubes? Leaving nothing but exposed flesh in their wake? He couldn’t do that. He didn’t know what he’d do without the hairs around his crotch or over his legs and how could Eddie possibly ask him to give up his happy trail? He certainly wasn’t shaving his armpits anytime soon.

“No,” Waylon replied, pulling away to turn back and face Eddie. “No, I like those.”

Eddie blinked slowly, brow furrowing.

“Why?”

“They’re- they’re part of me,” Waylon stuttered. “I barely remember living without them, I’d feel- naked if they went away.”

“I enjoy your naked form,” Eddie said, a hopeful tone in his voice.

“And I like yours.”

Waylon came forward to wrap an arm around Eddie and put a hand on his pubic bone.

“Hair and all,” Waylon added, smiling gently up at Eddie. “You wouldn’t shave this if I asked you to, would you?”

Eddie’s lips grew tight and he glanced away thoughtfully.

“I- might,” he said, none-too-convincing.

“Well, don’t you dare,” Waylon scolded and moved his fingers through Eddie’s pubic hair with a scritch for emphasis. “I like you, just the way you are.”

Eddie seemed to ponder his words for a moment, before he met Waylon’s eyes. “Darling, you make it sound like I don’t return the favor.”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do!” Eddie cried, offense creeping into his voice. He went quiet for a moment, reaching around Waylon to rub at the small of his back. “I’d like to feel more of you, that’s all.” He leaned down to nuzzle Waylon’s neck, and when he spoke his breath tickled Waylon’s skin. “I’d like to feel even closer to you, nothing between us at all.”

Waylon couldn’t deny that the thought was tempting in its own way, just skin on smooth skin. He liked the idea, but, at the same time, he couldn’t get over the idea of waxing away that nice little trail of hair between his groin and his navel. That subtle fuzz that had been with him for the better half of his life.

Something in Waylon’s face must have betrayed his thoughts, since when he looked up at Eddie, his smile had faded

“You- you don’t like that?” 

“I like it, but I like my hair too, Eddie.” Waylon leaned up against Eddie, allowing him to support both their weights. “It’s not between us. It’s part of me, it is me, and I’m not getting rid of anything below the waist.”

“That doesn’t rule out the chest then?”

Waylon sighed, but he had to laugh and roll his eyes just as quickly.

“Maybe, Eddie,” he said, standing up straight again. “But not today. Not too soon.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Eddie conceded, even as a hopeful glint remained in his eyes.

Waylon was going to have to wrangle this issue another day, he just knew it, but he was too pleasantly sleepy to keep it up just then.

“You want eggs?” Waylon asked. “Sausages? Bacon? Something?”

“Eggs and sausage sounds lovely to me,” Eddie said, suddenly smiling

“Great,” Waylon said, brushing past Eddie. “I’ll get some clothes on, get that started.”

“Whyever would you need clothing this early?” Eddie asked, leaning out of the door frame.

“There’s certain places I don’t like splashing with hot grease.”

“Try an apron, darling.”

Without another word, Eddie shut the door and Waylon heard a hollow thump followed by a rush of water. Waylon let out a harsh breath through his nose. Eddie had an agenda; anyone with half a brain could tell that much. Didn’t help that he was pushy and persistent. But if Eddie could be pushy, Waylon could push back.

Not about the apron, though; that wasn’t really a bad idea on Eddie’s part. Getting pants on was going to be a pain anyway, and if it fueled Eddie’s libido, well, where was the harm?


	3. Housework

Waylon dug his coat out of the closet next to the front door. He’d been spending a lot of time with Eddie lately, and it had begun to eat into time that he usually spent helping out Miles. It was really nice being with Eddie and he didn’t mind, but Waylon got a little stir crazy being in the house all the time. They’d had breakfast together and Waylon was ready to take spend some time on one of Miles’ adventures.

As he finally pulled his jacket out of the sea of outerwear, though, Waylon caught Eddie’s footsteps, making their way in his direction.

“Darling?” Eddie called, across from the foyer at the kitchen’s entrance. “Where are you going?”

“I’m out with Miles today,” Waylon said, shoving the jacket under his arm and turning to face Eddie. “He’s got it in his head that some greenhouse is introducing mutant flowers into the ecosystem, so we’re looking to get soil samples.”

“Why would you want to do that?” Eddie asked, wrinkling his nose. “It sounds terribly- filthy for someone of your standards.”

“Never knew I had standards about digging in the dirt.” Waylon complemented the statement with a cheeky half-smile, but Eddie wasn’t returning it.

“Wouldn’t you rather stay here?” he asked. “I wouldn’t mind you looking after the house, not at all.”

“I could, I guess. But Miles-”

“Can’t that yahoo rake his own muck?” Eddie hissed, eyes drifting away from Waylon.

“He will, one way or another,” Waylon conceded, shrugging. “I guess I could stay here, I just-”

“Wonderful, darling!” Eddie crooned, tune changed so fast that it was giving Waylon whiplash. “Would you get me my coat?”

Waylon hesitated, glancing from Eddie’s saccharine smile to the closet.

“Uh. Which?”

Eddie chuckled and shook his head like Waylon’s question was the most adorable thing he’d ever heard.

“Why don’t you pick?”

Waylon inhaled through his teeth. “If you really want.”

Despite his better instincts, Waylon turned around to browse through the closet once again. He scanned his eyes across the selection. Every shape and color seemed to be represented, overwhelming his thought processes. Why did Eddie need so much clothing, really? Waylon could barely navigate through having ten shirts and ten pairs of pants. He still had to pick something, though, so Waylon grabbed a light, deep blue blazer that would do just fine.

He turned back around and held the jacket up by the hanger with a tight-lipped smile.

“Lovely choice, darling,” Eddie said, taking the blazer without another word.

Waylon couldn’t help but preen a bit at the praise, and took the coat hanger as Eddie handed it back to him. He willingly worked his own jacket back into the hanger and hung it up, all while Eddie pulled his on.

As he shut the closet door, Eddie put a gentle hand over Waylon’s hip and leaned over to kiss him on the temple. Waylon giggled and let himself be turned around so Eddie could capture his lips. Waylon accepted without a thought, letting his mouth hang just an inch ajar just in case Eddie wanted to deepen the kiss.

But he didn’t. Within a moment, Eddie pulled back and straightened the hem of his jacket.

“I’ll be seeing you this evening then,” he said.

Waylon blinked rapidly as his thoughts caught up with him. Now wait one damn minute there.

“You get to go out, but I don’t?”

“Well, of course. I need to work,” Eddie explained, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “You need to take care of the home.”

Waylon glanced over his shoulder before shrugging.

“Takes care of itself pretty well, I’d say.”

Eddie let out a laugh.

“I’m sure you’ll find something that needs to be taken care of, darling.”

“But I want to-”

Before Waylon could finish Eddie leaned in for another kiss. Waylon made to pull back this time, but Eddie put a hand behind his head and kept him in place. Eddie let his mouth fall open this time, prompting Waylon to reciprocate. It wasn’t as passionate as some of their late night make out sessions, but it was enough to make Waylon forget whatever he’d wanted to say.

Eddie kept on for almost a minute before finally pulling away and giving Waylon some powerful bedroom eyes.

“Take care,” Eddie whispered. “I love you, darling.”

“Love you too,” Waylon conceded, breathless and unwilling to protest further.

“Have a nice day, Waylon.”

With that, Eddie opened the door and exited, shutting it behind him.

Waylon let a breath out of his nose. He turned back towards the foyer and stared around. Suddenly the house seemed much bigger than it was.

So. He was supposed to find something to do, was that it? Alright. He could do that. Maybe.

But where did he even start? Eddie was trying to get him to play housewife, that much was obvious, but what was he supposed to do? Clean? Eddie couldn’t leave a mess if he tried, and he made a habit of dusting and polishing every wood surface in the house daily. Knit? Waylon couldn’t knit and Eddie was better with fabrics anyway. Read better home magazines and cheesy romance novels? Oh, God, Waylon couldn’t think of anything more dull.

Well, maybe he’d just sweep. Or do laundry. Or something. Waylon had to call Miles about the change of plans, so maybe he’d think of something. Or maybe he’d just end up laying around in front of the TV. Yay.

*****

Waylon was lounging on the couch, staring at the ceiling with one arm dangling over the floor. The television was on and he was wrapped in its glow in the dark room. His phone sat on his belly, rising and falling with every breath he took. He couldn’t remember how long it had been or what he’d set out to do; all he knew was that he’d fallen asleep once or twice. There was nothing on and playing with his phone wasn’t that entertaining and he was tired of eating Nutella with a spoon.

Waylon tipped his head over to check the wall clock near the TV. 5:00. Eddie would be home soon. Fuck. It felt like he’d been sitting there forever, and finally he had a reason to get up and do something, _anything_.

Waylon hauled himself up and grabbed the Nutella container off of the coffee table. He clicked the TV off, leaving him in the dark, and stood up to trudge back into the kitchen. He felt like the dead walking, bags under his eyes and barely aware of his surroundings. Couldn’t Eddie have stored a jigsaw or a Jenga set somewhere? What had he even done in his free time before Waylon came along?

Just as soon as the question came to him, Waylon was hit with the answer: he made clothing. Duh.

Well, Waylon had to make some food, that much he knew. He stowed the Nutella back on the shelf and started rifling through the fridge and cabinets, trying to decide what he could do. Pasta, veggies, a small package of pork, maybe some kind of soup would make sense. They had at least a little canned vegetable broth. Waylon could work with this.

He put out a cutting board and knife near the sink and started gathering vegetables, zucchini, squash, carrots, a bit of celery, nothing too excessive, but enough for a decent meal. He set some pasta bows and the pork aside. A pot was easy enough to find, sitting in one of the many cabinets, and he filled it up with a bit of water. The vegetable broth came next before he set it on a burner at medium heat. Easy enough so far. A little too easy.

So he got to chopping vegetables. Slowly. Waylon wasn’t much of a chopper, really; he couldn’t dice an onion in five seconds flat or anything like that. So it wasn’t too surprising that, after the first zucchini, Waylon was already tired of chopping. Sure, Waylon did a good amount of cooking around Eddie, but usually Eddie was with him at least. And he hadn’t made much in the way of soup or anything complicated. Usually he stuck to bacon and Eddie’s nice waffle iron. It didn’t help that he was still tasting hazelnuts.

Still, he kept on his slicing crusade. It was better to just get it down than complain. One after the other, Waylon cut the vegetables and, once the cutting board got crowded, deposited them into the pot. It didn’t take too long once he found a rhythm, but, if he wasn’t worried about disappointing Eddie, Waylon would rather have ordered takeout.

Next came the bowtie noodles. Waylon wasn’t really sure if people put noodles in their vegetable and pork soup, but he tore open the package and sprinkled them in anyway. He had to smile at the sight of pasta. It was one of the few things he and Miles had ever made on their own, for macaroni and cheese usually. Waylon remembered the first time they’d cooked all too well. Miles had taken some spaghetti right out of the pot and tossed it at the fridge. It stuck. For quite a while. Waylon might have freaked out more than he should have, but it was part of why he liked Miles.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t talked to Miles since the morning. Maybe making another call would alleviate his lonely boredom.

Waylon set his phone down on the counter and navigated to Miles’ number. He tapped it once, then another time to put the phone in speaker mode. As it started to ring, Waylon tore open the pork and deposited it onto the cutting board.

Waylon counted three rings before he’d retrieved a better knife, and five when he got his hands on the pork. He was starting to worry before finally, the ringing stopped with a static thump.

“Hi, Way!” Miles called into the speaker. Beyond his voice, Waylon heard him breathing heavily and booming in the background. Gunshots? It sure as hell sounded like gunshots. “How ya doing?!”

“Where are you?” Waylon asked, putting all his focus on the phone. “And what in the name of God is that?!”

“Nothing important, little setback!” Miles said, even as he had to yell over the sound. “I found some weird stamens near the flower place, I think they’re the proof we’re looking for!”

“Are you being shot at?”

“Maybe a little, but that’s not- Down!”

Waylon heard a thump and maybe some bushes rustling along with someone yelling in the background. His jaw hung ajar. How did Miles manage to come out alive every time?

“Listen, Way, I’m fine, but I gotta go now,” Miles said, his voice a little clearer. “Tell you all about it tomorrow, promise.”

“If you die, I’ll kill you,” Waylon sighed, shaking his head and putting the knife through the pork.

Miles laughed on the other end.

“Don’t worry, I got this on lockdown! See ya, Way!”

With that, the connection clicked shut and Waylon was left on his own again. Of course, on the day Miles managed to put himself in a war zone, Waylon had agreed to stay at home. Safe, simple, nothing-happening home. Woohoo.

At least there was less pork to slice than vegetables. He got done with it quickly and plopped the meat into the pot with everything else. If anything, Waylon felt like he was making kitchen sink soup. He usually kept things simple.

The water was boiling and now all Waylon needed to do was wait. Making food was so exciting Waylon just felt like laying down and sleeping for sixteen hours. Not a terrible idea, come to think of it. But no, Waylon set the oven timer and sat down at the kitchen table.

Once again, Waylon was left with no other options but to play with his phone. Even after just a few minutes of Snake, though, Waylon already felt like his eyes were glazing over. It was just so repetitive. He didn’t know how anyone could stare at a screen for hours on end without going catatonic.

Waylon shoved his phone onto the table and leaned back in his chair. His eyes wandered down and found the white tiled floor. It was looking pretty comfortable, now that he really saw it. Didn’t help that he was already drowsy from barely moving the entire day. Waylon let his head tip downward and his eyes droop. He really wouldn’t have minded going to bed without eating dinner. Just lay in bed and curl up and fall...

Waylon blinked once, his eyes still partially stuck shut. It didn’t feel like he’d been out, but, if the stale taste in his mouth was any indication, he’d fallen asleep. Waylon could hear footsteps nearby, but they didn’t immediately register in his head as anything noteworthy. Once his vision cleared, a bouquet of flowers made itself known in front of him. Eddie must have come home. _Eddie_. Dinner!

Waylon squirmed to attention and made to stand, but found his legs stiff and unyielding. He managed to right himself momentarily before falling back in the chair.

“Awake at last, darling?” Eddie said from somewhere behind him.

“Uh huh,” Waylon mumbled, even as he gripped the chair’s armrests for support. He was a little dizzy. Probably from not drinking nearly enough that day.

“I certainly hope so.” Eddie walked into Waylon’s view, standing at the side of the table and smiling down at him. “It’s hard to tell you what a wonderful a job you’ve done when you’re unconscious.”

“Wha- what?”

“You’ve kept everything clean, put the laundry in, even started dinner.” Eddie leaned down to touch Waylon’s cheek and kiss him on the lips. “I greatly appreciate that, darling.”

“I- I...” Waylon trailed off. He couldn’t really deny any of that, but at the same time, it wasn’t really doing much at all. He hadn’t needed to really do anything to clean and, sure, he’d done the laundry, but it didn’t take much to do. There was so little effort that it felt like nothing.

“I hardly blame you for falling asleep, you must have been busy,” Eddie said, pulling away and heading for the stove. “Don’t worry about your soup, I’ve taken care of it. I’m sure you’d have woken with the timer had I allowed it to sound.”

Well, that explained a few things at least.

“How long’s it been since?”

“Oh, less than an hour, don’t worry.” Waylon caught the sounds of fluid and chunks being scooped into a bowl. “I know you wouldn’t want to neglect your household duties, but I don’t mind coming home to you like this at all.”

Waylon reached out and picked up the bouquet in front of him, turning it to see all the different flowers. Red and white carnations made up the bulk of it, with what looked like red daisies among them. Tying the bouquet together was some kind of parsley looking plant. Coriander maybe? Anything Waylon knew about botany came from the past week of Miles’ investigation. It was nice, Waylon could discern that much.

“Are these for me?” he asked.

Eddie laughed as he returned to the table and placed a bowl of soup in front of Waylon.

“Well, of course, why else would I have put them in front of you?”

“They’re nice,” was all Waylon could manage before setting them aside.

“Dinner smells incredible, darling,” Eddie said, sitting down across from Waylon. “You used the pork?”

“Yeah,” Waylon mumbled, picking up his spoon. “Hope that’s okay.”

“I’d have it no other way.”

Without another word, Eddie scooped up some of the soup and took a bite. Waylon watched quietly, stirring his own bowl. He wasn’t exactly hungry.

“Mm,” Eddie hummed as he swallowed. “I should leave you alone to make dinner more often.”

Waylon tried to smile, but didn’t get very far. He didn’t mind making dinner sometimes, so long as it didn’t mean he’d have to stay home the rest of the day.

“You really are meant for this sort of thing,” Eddie continued. “You’d do far better being a housewife than going out on whatever wild goose chase Upshur comes up with.”

“Eddie, I’m really not…” Waylon murmured and trailed off again. Eddie was so enthusiastic and his head was still foggy and the right words weren’t coming to him.

“With how well you’ve done, I think you should stay home more often.”

Waylon’s stomach turned over itself at the suggestion. An audible groan escaped Waylon and he put a hand over his face.

“What’s the matter, darling?” Eddie asked, furrowing his brow.

Waylon whimpered and kept his eyes down. The smell of cooked pork and vegetables was suddenly completely unappetizing, and he felt like vomiting.

“Are you ill?” Eddie’s tone shifted to concern with maybe a touch of panic. “You’ve barely eaten, do you need to lay down?”

“No,” Waylon muttered, even as he was feeling a little sick.

“Then what’s wrong? You’ve done so well.”

Waylon took in a deep breath and raised his head to look Eddie in the eye. If he didn’t say something now, he’d lose the opportunity. He had to say something.

“I- I hate staying in all day,” Waylon said, like a Catholic in a confession booth. “I’m alone and I barely had to do anything and I’m- I’m bored.”

“Bored?” Eddie echoed. “But you’ve done so much.”

“No, I haven’t!” Waylon snapped. “I was napping most of the day!”

Eddie gave a puff of laughter and a half-smile, rolling his eyes like Waylon was being ridiculous.

“And still you managed to get housework done. I don’t see a problem.”

“I _hated_ it!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me,” Eddie commanded, lips thinning.

“Well, it’s true!” Waylon barked, slapping the table for effect.

“Careful,” Eddie warned, voice too low for comfort. “You musn’t forget manners just because you’re upset, darling.”

“Then listen to me,” Waylon begged, practically sobbing. “I want to go out and investigate with Miles and- do things. I can’t do anything cooped up here.”

“Him again,” Eddie hissed, nose wrinkling as he stared away from Waylon.

Waylon gave a quiet sigh. Eddie had never cared for Miles at all, but he’d hoped that Eddie could at least understand their friendship.

“I like working with him,” Waylon said, leaning over to try to take back Eddie’s eye contact. “It’s never a dull moment.”

“And you find me dull?” Eddie growled, face twisted into a grimace.

“No! It’s just- You and Miles are very different and I like that I can do different things with both of you. I can go on wild adventures with him and have quiet days the rest of the time with you, you know?”

“I know that he’s perfectly willing to put you in harm’s way,” Eddie spat, turning his head forward again. “I can’t protect you when you’re out galavanting who-knows-where with that impotent moron.”

Waylon didn’t flinch even as Eddie insulted his friend. “I’d rather that than have to sit around inside all day,” he said, doing everything he could to keep his voice level.

“You don’t need to be inside all the time, Waylon,” Eddie said, his tone morphed into a pleading mewl. ‘I’m sure you could find something to do more close to home. Something safer and down-to-Earth.”

“I’m not staying away from Miles.” Waylon reached out across the table, offering his hand to Eddie. “I know you hate him, but I’ve known him since we were kids. He’s a good guy, just- quirky. He’s not gonna get me killed.”

Eddie sighed and took his hand, frowning still, but the fight gone from his posture.

“I wish I could believe that, darling.”

“Well, I believe it, so trust me.” Waylon squeezed his hand. “Please trust me.”

“Alright,” Eddie conceded. He smiled for just a second before returning to his frown. “I suppose there are some things that I’ll simply never understand.”

Waylon stood up and stepped over to Eddie’s side of the table. He arranged himself on Eddie’s lap, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck.

“And I don’t always understand you, but I still love you,” he said, nuzzling Eddie’s neck.

“I love you too, darling,” Eddie said, petting down Waylon’s back. “Absolutely adore you. I wouldn’t- I couldn’t take anything from you.”

“Thank you.”

“I do hope you’ll still make dinner on occasion,” Eddie murmured into Waylon’s ear.

“Of course,” Waylon said, pausing to yawn. “I like cooking. Sometimes.”

Eddie made a content sound against Waylon’s ear and hugged him closer, and despite the calm compromise they had made, Waylon still didn’t feel like he had completely won the argument.


	4. Third Parties

“You’re really sure you don’t want to go home?” Waylon asked as he jimmied the door to Eddie’s house open.

“Can’t,” Miles said. “I’m telling you, they’re onto me and if I disappear all of a sudden, I need you to know right away.”

“If you say so, man.”

Waylon had a feeling Miles might just “disappear” if he stayed overnight, extraterrestrial botanists or not. But it was only one night and all Miles had to do was behave himself. Oh, God, he was doomed.

“Hi, Eddie!” Waylon called, slipping his jacket off.

“One moment, darling!” Eddie called back from the living room.

“Wow, cozy little place you got here,” Miles said, shedding his jacket right onto the floor and ditching his shoes just as haphazardly.

Waylon was left to hang up both their coats and nudge Miles’ shoes next to the doormat, anticipation sparking in his veins all the while.

“Miles, please, please be polite,” Waylon begged, keeping his voice down. “You know how Eddie is.”

“Right, right, sorry.” Miles brushed himself off and adjusted the collar on his shirt. He straightened his back and grinned that same grin he got when he knew something no one else did. Waylon could only pray that Eddie wouldn’t castrate him.

“Darling, wel-”

Eddie froze in place at the sight of Miles, his face one of abject disgust, like Miles was a filthy sewer rat Waylon had dragged into the house. His eyes were glued to Miles and, as he turned to Eddie, Miles returned the favor. They just stood there looking at each other for a long while, in what Waylon could only describe as a meeting of minds. Very, very, _very_ conflicting minds.

“Hey,” Miles said after a moment of staring. “How ya doing? Sorry it’s so sudden, but I gotta crash here, reptilians are a lot less likely to try an abduction if I’m not totally alone.”

Eddie didn’t say anything to Miles, but Waylon caught a twitch in his left eye. He tore his gaze away from Miles and strode over to Waylon.

“Darling,” Eddie hissed. “What possessed you to invite _him_ here?”

“He didn’t invite me, it was my idea,” Miles chimed in.

Eddie completely ignored him and kept his expectant gaze on Waylon.

“Well, I can’t just let him get taken by lizard people, can I?” Waylon tried with a half-hearted smile.

To say the least, Eddie wasn’t amused. He whirled around to loom over Miles.

“I don’t know what you do out in the wild and I don’t care to know, but I’ll have none of your nonsense in my home. If you must spend the night, kindly keep the guest room tidy.”

“Yes, sir,” Miles said, saluting Eddie like he was a drill sergeant.

“And be quiet.”

“Mhm!” Miles replied, sucking his lips shut.

“Down the hall,” Eddie ordered, pointing sharply to the left.

Miles just about marched in the instructed direction, and Waylon wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen Miles that obedient.

With Miles gone, Eddie turned about to face Waylon. He no longer had Miles to eye with a judgmental stare, so it seemed to transfer to Waylon instead. That stung a bit, but all Waylon could really do was shrug.

“Please keep him under control. I’d rather not do anything regrettable.”

“I’ll try, I really will, but- try to understand? Please?” Waylon opened his eyes wide, giving Eddie a begging smile.

“I’m already trying very hard, darling.” Eddie sighed and reached up to rub his temples. “Would you start on dinner, please? I’m sure we’ll all be less- volatile with food in our stomachs.”

Waylon might have complained at Eddie blatantly taking for granted that he’d make dinner, but, with the mood being what it was, he hurried off to the kitchen. It was a little earlier than they usually ate, but Waylon was not up for questioning Eddie right then. They had chicken in the fridge, Waylon would make it, and that would be the end of it.

Waylon quietly went to work, carefully cutting the chicken breasts into strips. It was just like any other night, really. Waylon wouldn’t have known Miles was there if he hadn’t seen him come in. Maybe he really didn’t have anything to worry-

_Thump! Thump! Thump!_

Waylon jumped. Oh boy. There went any hope of normality. He tried his best to ignore the banging sounds coming from the guest bedroom. With any luck Eddie would ignore them as well.

“What the hell is he doing?”

Waylon swallowed thickly. He should have known Eddie wouldn’t be able to ignore it.

He looked over his shoulder at Eddie, who was suddenly right behind him. How someone so big could be so silent was something Waylon would never understand.

“Moving his luggage around?” Waylon suggested.

“He didn’t bring any luggage,” Eddie sneered and moved closer. “I told you to control him.”

“You also told me to make dinner.”

Eddie snorted and his expression wasn’t getting any more pleasant. Despite his words, Waylon put the knife down.

“I’ll go see, alright?”

“If you’d please,” Eddie said, folding his arms.

Waylon made his way back into the foyer and across to the guest room. Sure enough, the thumping only got louder the closer he got. With a sigh, he pushed the door open.

Inside, Miles had set to work with a hammer, nailing what looked to be mixture of garlic and papers with odd symbols to the wall.

“What in God’s name are you doing?” Waylon hissed, coming up behind Miles.

Miles stopped hammering and turned around to smile at Waylon like nothing was even going on.

“Just putting up some little tokens,” he said, shrugging. “You should probably put them up in all the rooms, this house is full of some pretty dark stuff in-”

“Miles, you can’t do that!” Waylon broke in, putting his hand on the hammer. “You can’t just come into a house and start hammering, especially not Eddie’s.”

Miles let him take the hammer, but he didn’t look especially convinced.

“If you say so, but don’t blame me when you need an exorcism.”

“Just please don’t make any more noise,” Waylon begged. “Help me out here.”

“You know I always want to help you, Way,” Miles said, nudging him with a smile. “Quiet as a mouse from now on.”

“It’s not about me, it’s about Eddie. His house.”

“Jeez, Way, you talk like you haven’t shared the place for half a year. It’s not your home too?”

Waylon could only sigh in response. Miles had a point, but at the same time, he didn’t really understand. Usually he did feel at home, but lately… Well, it wasn’t like anything was wrong per se. He was just on edge with Miles and Eddie butting heads.

He turned to leave once again and seriously considered blocking the door behind him. At least Miles was relatively harmless if he was contained. That was just asking for even more noise, though, so Waylon left the door ajar.

He returned to the kitchen and found that the chicken had been completely sliced up in his absence. Well, that was nice of Eddie, at least. It was a little thinner than Waylon had wanted it to be, but he could work with that. Waylon stowed the hammer under the sink and got back to cooking.

The next half hour went by without a hitch, and Waylon managed to feel like he was actually helping as he arranged the sliced chicken on a bed of rice and peas, and called Eddie and Miles in for dinner. He almost felt like a proper housewife. The idea had him grinning to himself and rolling his eyes.

Eddie came first, like the proper, on-time gentleman he was, and took his seat with a subtle glare that betrayed his mood. Miles, on the other hand, shuffled along a good five minutes later with his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.

“Oh my God, Way, chicken and rice?” Miles called out as he strode over and took Waylon’s usual seat. “You know me way too well.”

Waylon caught Eddie tensing up in his seat and he gave an uncomfortable laugh in an effort to defuse tension.

“Ah, shut up, Miles, it’s not all about you,” he said as he came around with plates of food for each of them.

“Everyone’s telling me to shut up tonight,” Miles said, picking up his fork to prod at the chicken. “I can’t be _that_ annoying.”

“If only,” Eddie mumbled, staring downward.

Waylon held his breath, but Miles didn’t bite back at all. Too busy with his food. Thank God.

Waylon sat down with his plate at last and, while it was eerily quiet, that was better than the very real possibility of Miles and Eddie going at each other. Well, quiet aside from Miles’ munching. As Waylon looked over, he found Miles all-but-face first in his food. He was using his fork at least, but he also had his hand in there, shoveling mixtures of rice and meat into his face.

At least it was keeping him from talking. For the moment. But Eddie didn’t need to talk to make Waylon nervous. He was eating, but every little movement he made betrayed the hair-trigger he was on.

“Jeez, you two, ever heard’a dinner table conversation?” Miles blurted out after a while. “Hope you don’t clam up this bad alone.”

Waylon’s gaze shifted to Miles and he gave as subtle a shake of his head as he could. No, no, no, Miles was gonna send this house of cards toppling.

“Hey, Ed, uh, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think you might have some spirits on your property,” Miles pushed, looking Eddie right in the eye. The exchange reminded him a bit of watching guys jump into gator infested waters.. “Some pretty nasty ones too. Tried to put up some wards, but _someone_ didn’t think they were necessary.”

“What did you do?” Eddie asked, eyes narrowing. He glanced to Waylon. “What did he do?”

“Nothing,” Waylon deflected, kicking Miles in the shin under the table.

“Ow!” Miles yelped. “Jeez, it was just some garlic and voodoo, you act like I let a tornado in.”

Eddie’s scowl only grew darker.

“Do you think it your right as a guest to do whatever suits you?” he hissed, fixing a nasty glare on Miles.

“Well, what do you want me to do, sit around and wait for one of these things to possess someone?”

“Yes. I’d greatly appreciate you sitting and doing nothing.”

“I’d appreciate you getting that stick out of your ass, but you don’t hear me complaining.”

In an instant, Eddie stood up and snatched Miles by the collar as he leaned over the table.

“Was I not clear when you first invaded my home?” he asked, pulling Miles’ face towards his own and putting the smaller man in an uncomfortable, not-quite-standing posture.

“Uh. About?”

“None of your nonsense!” Eddie snapped. “I don’t know what cuckooland you fell out of, but I won’t have you bringing it here. I’ll hear nothing of spirits, little green men, banshees, or what-have-you, and I’ll certainly not take any disrespect. Am I clear?”

“Little green men?” Miles echoed. “What is this, the 50s?”

“Am I clear?!” Eddie roared, his face coming dangerously close to Miles’.

“Yes, yes, clear, yes, no more aliens, respect, things.”

Eddie released Miles and was back in his chair like nothing had happened. He was still tense, but he went about eating much faster. Miles nearly fell out of his seat before righting himself, but he didn’t stay long. He took his plate, scraped whatever remained on it into the trash, and popped it into the dishwasher before scurrying out of the kitchen.

“Impotent coward,” Eddie muttered as he left. His shoulders relaxed a bit with Miles gone, despite everything. “I don’t know what you see in him.”

Waylon sighed, questioning that himself now, if only a little. He glanced down at his meal, but found that he wasn’t very hungry anymore.

“He’s- well, this isn’t really his natural environment.”

“I doubt he has a “natural” environment.”

“Oh, stop,” Waylon said, rolling his eyes. “I know he’s weird, but he hasn’t done anything really wrong.”

“You wouldn’t call disrespecting your host’s expectations a wrong?”

“Well, it is, but it’s not like he’s hurt anyone.”

Eddie shook his head and gave Waylon his classic I’m right, you’re wrong sneer.

“Honestly, darling, I know you’re attached and your judgment is muddled, but his kind only brings trouble.”

It was Waylon’s turn to frown. He could live with Eddie’s disgust for Miles, but when Eddie spun that as bad judgment on his part, that was uncalled for.

“Miles doesn’t have a “kind,” Miles is Miles,” Waylon started, getting to his feet as he spoke. “Just because you don’t like him being here doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but what sounded like something shattering in the guest room caught both of their attention. Waylon froze in place.

“You were saying?” Eddie asked, voice dripping with a cruel irony.

Eddie stood up and lumbered out of the kitchen, leaving Waylon standing there. Waylon held his breath, hoping that the sound hadn’t been what he thought it was. Miles had some weird rituals, sure, but he wasn’t accident-prone. Unless he’d been trying to fix something and it hadn’t gone the way he’d planned. Please be nothing, Waylon begged internally.

A sharp cry from down the far hall broke Waylon out of his trance. In an instant, he was bolting out of the kitchen and towards the guest room. He stopped in the doorway, adrenaline pumping through his veins, and the scene told him everything he needed to know: a few of the nails in the wall had pulled out and the trinkets they’d scattered around. A shattered desk lamp on the floor next to a precariously placed side table. Eddie in the middle of the room, holding Miles with his arm twisted behind his back. Miles struggling and whimpering against Eddie.

“I didn’t-” Miles stammered. “I didn’t mean-”

“I’ve had quite enough of you!” Eddie shouted, his voice ringing through the house. “You thought you could push me?!”

“Eddie, that’s enough,” Waylon said, mustering all his confidence to keep his voice from shaking. He stepped into the room and approached them. “You’re hurting him, stop.”

“No, darling, I’m protecting our home from filth.” He twitched Miles’ arm a bit, drawing a whimper from Miles. “I’m sure you don’t understand, but I do this for you.”

Just like that, Eddie was picking Miles up on his feet and shoving him out the door.

“Are you insane, what are you doing?!” Waylon called, trailing after them.

“What I should have done when I first saw him!”

Eddie kept on into the foyer and Waylon trailed behind him, words stuck in his throat. He’d never seen Eddie get this physical, and absolutely not with anyone Waylon knew. Maybe because Waylon didn’t know a lot of people. It wasn’t an excuse anyway.

“Eddie, stop!” Waylon tried again, louder this time.

“Darling, I only do this for your sake,” Eddie said, shoving Miles to the floor of the foyer and shoving the door leading outside open.

Miles lifted his head up with a groan, but didn’t have any time to stand before Eddie had him by the collar.

“My sake?!” Waylon shrilled. “I don’t remember asking you to manhandle my best friend!”

“It’s not about what you want, it’s about what’s best.”

The way Eddie hissed his words, followed by him shoving Miles right out the door had Waylon seething. Sure, Miles had done some things he shouldn’t have, but that didn’t make assaulting him and tossing him out okay, and it absolutely didn’t justify Eddie condescending to him.

“Best for who?!” Waylon shouted, no longer afraid of raising his voice. “Don’t fucking act like you’re above the rest of us! Above me! You’re not!”

“I’ve protected you from yourself from the day we met!” Eddie roared right back. “I wanted us to be happy and you keep rejecting me!”

“What about what I want?! Why is it always about what you want?! I’m not a fucking doll!”

“Your judgment has led you to nothing but-”

Waylon wasn’t listening anymore. He could feel the heat in his face and the burning in his lungs and he’d had more than enough. He stomped out to join Miles.

“Get back here, I’m not done with you!” Eddie barked.

“No!” Waylon didn’t even care if anyone else in the neighborhood heard him. “I’m done, Eddie, I’m sick of this crap!”

Waylon kneeled down and helped a still-dazed Miles up. Miles was blinking rapidly and staring forward without focus. For once in his life, Miles didn't seem like he had a single clue what was going on.

“Leave me then! Whores!”

Waylon heard the door slam shut behind them and suddenly he was left with only the sound of his own heavy breathing.

He glanced to Miles, who had recovered some of his senses at least. In another once-in-a-lifetime event, Miles gave him a look of complete understanding. On top of everything else, it was enough to make his knees shake.

“Come on,” Miles said, patting him gently on the back. “We’ll catch a train.”

Miles didn’t say anything else as they headed for the station and Waylon was glad for it. Yeah, Miles had some weird ideas, but he read Waylon like a book and always had his back. It was nice to have someone to fall back on in situations like this. He really needed some time away from Eddie. In fact, he probably had needed some time away for a while now.


	5. Wife

The next couple days went by with little of note happening. Miles was still on his alien mutant plant crusade, but Waylon mostly stayed in their apartment. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to go with Miles, but he just didn’t have the energy. He hadn’t been away from Eddie for so long in months and the loss was almost like losing a limb. It felt wrong, but what else could he do? He wasn’t gonna go groveling back to Eddie. Waylon had his pride. For now.

So he spent his days sitting on the couch and eating takeout with Miles. It wasn’t a bad time at all. Waylon forgot how much fun it was to listen to Miles go on and on about his theories about whatever had caught his attention that day.

“I think we need a better water filter,” he’d said once. “Doesn’t it taste metallic to you? Chemical-y? You felt weird at all?”

“No,” Waylon had replied, even as he felt as weird as he’d ever felt.

Of course, Miles was still out most of the day, leaving him alone with his thoughts. It wasn’t the same as when Eddie had tried to leave him home alone. He wasn’t bored at all, just tired and dejected. There was too much on his mind for him to be bored, a black fog that hung over him. He wanted to do something about it, but there was no real good solution.

And so he sat. Maybe he had a bit of water occasionally, but mostly Waylon sat on their dusty old beat-up couch. He wasn’t even thinking, really, just sulking. It was light, then it was dark, and Waylon could no longer remember just how long it had been. If there was a Hell, Waylon had to imagine it was like this. Stuck in a small room, alone, thinking about things you shouldn’t have done or said.

He missed Eddie, that was the worst part. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he did. It was weird not having Eddie to wake him up in the morning with a gentle kiss to his forehead. It was weird not being called “darling” at least five dozen times a day. Without Eddie, everything just felt empty. Sure, Waylon could probably get used to it, but he didn’t want to.

But then, he’d probably have to, at least for a while. Might as well try to function semi-normally. Waylon hauled himself off of the sofa and stumbled into the kitchen. He wasn’t sure what he was going to make, but he knew it was gonna contain booze. In fact, maybe he’d just break out the Jack Daniel’s. Neither he or Miles ever drank it anyway so what the hell?

Now where was it? Waylon rummaged through the fridge and found nothing. Then the cabinets and nothing. He even tried under the sink, but still nothing. Huh. Maybe Miles had taken it for something. Makeshift disinfectant, if Waylon knew Miles. Maybe he’d just have to drink the actual disinfectant.

Waylon was ready to throw in the towel and make some actual food when he heard a light thump on the door. It wasn’t a knock really. More like when a package got tossed against the apartment door by a disgruntled deliveryman. Waylon wasn’t really sure what to make of it, but he made his way over to the door anyway. It was silent again, no repeated contact so far. Waylon drew himself up to peek through the peephole and jumped a bit at what he saw. Eddie was standing there, but he wasn’t looking at the door. Instead, he was wringing his hands and seemed uncertain of himself. Waylon didn’t know if he’d ever seen Eddie uncertain about anything. It was surreal, being able to observe Eddie when he thought he was alone. It would have been cute if not for all that had happened between them.

Eddie mimed a groan and gave himself a slap to his cheek before approaching the door and giving it two solid knocks. Waylon had to smile, if only for a second. Eddie came back for him. That was nice, no matter what he had to say.

Waylon waited a beat before unlatching the door and pulling it ajar, poking his head out to look at Eddie. Eddie didn’t speak immediately, but instead let out an almost reverent sigh.

“Darling,” he breathed before clearing his throat. “Waylon. I- I wanted to apologize.”

“No kidding?” Waylon said, unable to resist a little snark.

“I’m afraid so. I was- monstrous to you and your friend.” Eddie blinked and tried to glance behind Waylon. “Is Miles home?”

“No,” Waylon said, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

“Thank you.”

Eddie slipped past Waylon, allowing him to shut and lock the door once again. Only then did the sheer discomfort of the situation really hit Waylon. Awkward. He was feeling awkward. Waylon wasn’t used to that at all with Eddie. Everything had felt so natural with them up until that point.

“I understand if you’re unable to forgive me for my transgressions.”

Eddie didn’t walk too far into the apartment, and he glanced around as though he wasn’t sure where he needed to be. It only made the situation feel even less real. Eddie had so much mass to him and seeing him unsure of what to do with it; it was like seeing a mask come off, one that Waylon hadn’t even known was there.

“I truly don’t know how I could possibly make this up to you,” Eddie continued, scratching at the side of his head. “I hope this hasn’t fully colored your perception of me. I lost my temper, I know, and I regret that more than I can express.”

“Yeah?” Waylon said, barely looking at Eddie at all.

“Yes.” Are you feeling well, darling?”

“Not really,” Waylon answered with a shrug. “But I don’t really know how to feel at all.”

Eddie blinked twice at him.

“Oh.”

His frown only grew more uncertain at that, and Waylon couldn’t blame Eddie. He wasn’t so certain himself. They both stayed quiet for a long moment before Waylon felt the need to say something, anything, to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Want some filtered water?”

“Excuse me?”

“Uh, Miles bought-” Waylon realized halfway through that more Miles probably wasn’t what Eddie wanted, and his voice dropped in volume. “-a new water filter.”

Eddie didn’t seem angry, but his brow had furrowed even further, and he blinked at Waylon.

“Look, I’m really not that upset,” Waylon said after another pause. “I know you didn’t mean it and Miles said some stuff he shouldn’t have, but I’m not just gonna let go that you hurt him.”

“And I can’t ask that of you.”

“But, more than that, I’m not gonna let go how you treated me that night.” Maybe it sounded selfish, but it was true. Waylon turned a hard stare on Eddie. “Like I was some thing you have around the house at your convenience. Take orders, do your chores, don’t talk to anyone you don’t approve of. Pretty little wife who stays in the house lets you make all the decisions. No, I can’t live like that, Eddie, I can’t.”

Eddie’s eyes slid to the side, guilt entering his expression.

“I need Miles, I need to make decisions for myself sometimes and I need you to stop trying to change that.”

“I understand. I- I should never have ignored your qualms.”

Eddie’s head was bowed in shame, and, for once, Waylon thought that he might just have really gotten through this time. Eddie always seemed to have such thick armor, but there was none of that this time. It gave Waylon some room to let down his own defenses.

“Honestly, I’m not really having a great time here,” Waylon went on, leaning up against the wall. “I don’t like being away from you.”

“Really?” Eddie asked, eyes lighting up.

“What, you think I stuck around just to ride your cock?”

Eddie cleared his throat and shifted on his feet, avoiding Waylon’s eyes.

Of course. Waylon rolled his eyes and stepped up to wrap his arms around Eddie.

“Well, I didn’t, you big lug.” Waylon bumped his forehead against Eddie’s chest. “I miss you when you’re not with me.”

“And I miss you,” Eddie mumbled against the top of Waylon’s head, though, there was still a note of uncertainty in his voice.

Waylon pulled away, looking up at Eddie’s face, and suddenly it was as if the past few days had never happened at all. Eddie must have felt it as well, as his eyes flickered down to Waylon’s mouth.

Then, just as Eddie tilted Waylon’s chin up with his fingers for a kiss, the door gave a characteristic thump, like someone had tried to throw himself against it. Eddie’s head shot up and he tensed up, ready to fight at any time. Waylon gave a modest laugh.

“Yeah, about Miles...”

Within a couple seconds, Waylon heard the door unlatch and creak open, followed by the shuffling of Miles’ feet. It wasn’t the typical I’ve-found-something-new shuffle, it was more of a I-just-figured-out-everything shuffle. And then he started talking.

“So I found the reptilians and, turns out, the plants were a totally separate thing made up by hippie cultists to infect-”

Miles turned about as he chattered on, shutting the door behind him, and froze at the sight of them. His mouth hung ajar for a moment before morphing into a manic smile. He backed himself up against the door.

“Oh, hey. Waylon. Ed. How ya doing?”

If Waylon didn’t know better, he might have said the Miles seemed nervous.

“Hey, Miles,” Waylon said, standing up and away from Eddie. “Eddie came over to say something to you.”

“Yeah?” Miles started edging himself away from the door. “Like?”

Waylon nudged Eddie’s side. Eddie was standing there with a frown that betrayed his lack of enthusiasm. Still, with a sigh, he approached Miles.

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I was most- uncharitable. I hope you can forgive me.”

Miles gave Eddie a hard stare, pursing his lips like he was deciding whether Eddie was human or some alien plant. After a moment’s pause, he seemed to decide on human.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” Miles said, standing up straight once again to grin at Eddie. “Jeez, you don’t have to be sorry. I kind of deserved it, I can be a dick, I know. Don’t worry, man.”

Without another word, Miles brushed past Eddie and headed for his room. As he approached, though, he whirled around and spoke once more.

“But Way doesn’t deserve it and if you hurt him- Well, I know people.”

And just like that, Miles was gone behind his door, leaving Eddie and Waylon to collect any thoughts he’d left behind.

“Was that a- threat?” Eddie asked, cocking his brow at Waylon.

“Maybe?” Waylon said, shrugging. “I think they call it a shovel talk.”

Eddie glanced from Waylon towards where Miles disappeared before shaking his head.

“Whatever it was, I’m just happy to have you again, darling.”

“You never lost me.”

Waylon approached Eddie again, this time reaching out just to give him a warm hug. He’d missed being close to Eddie, missed his scent and presence. Eddie sighed and accepted the embrace, petting down Waylon’s back.

“Do you want to go home now?” Eddie asked, voice soft in Waylon’s ear.

“Yeah. Yeah, I really would.”


	6. We Can Work it Out

The best way Waylon could describe the next several months was simply normal. Eddie toned back his requests, chastised Waylon a lot less, and had taken to being at least a little sociable with Miles. He’d even started making dinner more often.

Tonight was one of those nights and Waylon was feeling good. He’d spent the day running tests on some lake water and the evening with Eddie, and his eyes were beginning to droop with sleep. Nothing felt wrong and that was all he could ask for.

“You know, I think you’re a better cook than I’ll ever be,” Waylon said as he took another slow bite of lamb.

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling, you’re far more capable than I.” Eddie gave an uncomfortable laugh as he spoke and picked at his food.

Waylon blinked up at him. He’d noticed Eddie acting a little off earlier, but now he just seemed like he had something to say. Or was hiding something.

“Eddie?” he said. “Something on your mind, honey?”

“Many things, darling,” Eddie admitted, looking straight at him. He bit his lip, taking a deep breath and getting to his feet.

“I had a question,” he started, fishing something out of his pocket and clutching it hard in his hand.

Waylon squinted his eyes to get a better look, but his heart jumped as Eddie strode over to his side of the table and got down on one knee. He placed the box he’d retrieved flat on one of his palms and held it up to Waylon. As he spoke, he popped open its top.

“Waylon Park, would you take my hand in marriage?”

Inside, a simple, silvery band sat clutched in fabric. Waylon could hardly breathe, could hardly think. He hadn’t expected this so soon and he had no idea how these things worked. So he had to improvise.

“Of course I will, are you crazy?”

Without a thought, Waylon took the ring and slipped it on his finger. It fit like a glove. Eddie knew his size perfectly, but his eyes went wide like he hadn’t expected it to go on at all.

“Now come here,” Waylon demanded, spreading his arms out in an invitation.

Eddie didn’t miss a beat. He placed the box on the table and pulled Waylon into an embrace, picking him up off his feet in the process. Waylon laughed in surprise, but accepted and wrapped his legs around Eddie’s waist in turn. Eddie didn’t speak, but he rocked Waylon back and forth for a long moment in a way that made everything clear. Waylon couldn’t remember being so happy in a long time.

After a moment, though, Eddie kissed Waylon on the forehead and let him back down. Waylon obliged, putting a few inches between them.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Eddie asked, his voice betraying the adrenaline rushing through him. “I wouldn’t want to- If it’s too soon-”

Waylon reached out and put a hand on Eddie’s cheek, drawing himself up to kiss Eddie once more.

“Sure I’m sure,” he said with a gentle smile. “Can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.”

“Really and truly?” Eddie pressed.

“Both those things and more.”

The nervousness Eddie had been radiating petered out before disappearing completely. He smiled the most genuine smile Waylon had ever seen from him, full of tender, honest affection. Waylon could have gotten lost in Eddie’s eyes then. In fact, he probably would have had Eddie not spoken again.

“Then we’ll need to start planning immediately,” he said, his nerves seeming to have turned to giddy excitement. “We’ll need to find a church and catering and, oh, you’ll need the most beautiful dress-”

“No dress,” Waylon cut in.

“What?”

“I’m not wearing a dress in front of everyone.”

“Oh,” Eddie said, deflating a bit. “Well, I suppose I could-”

“ _In front of everyone_ , Eddie,” Waylon repeated, giving a wink.

Eddie raised an eyebrow before a knowing smirk came over his face.

“Ah. Well, I’ll have to work on a couple special outfits then, won’t I? You do need to look pretty for the occasion, even outside our bedroom.”

Waylon gave a laugh and pushed his face into Eddie’s chest.

“Face it, Eddie,” he mumbled. “You’re marrying a man.”

Eddie sighed, mournful, but more wistful than anything. He ran his fingers through Waylon’s hair, gentle and affectionate.

“A man who I love more than I ever believed possible.” Eddie coughed out a laugh. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if any of this was possible.”

“What?” Waylon asked, glancing up at him. “You really thought I’d say no?”

“You’ve said it so often in the past, I wouldn’t have been surprised.”

“Well.” Eddie did have a point. Sort of. “This is different. I’ve got my limits, but how could I say no to this? I love you, Eddie. I always will.”

“And I love you, Waylon,” Eddie murmured back, holding him close.

Waylon nuzzled up against Eddie with a smile. Maybe they fought, maybe they didn’t always agree, but what did that make them except their own persons?

“You know this means you’ll be seeing Miles a lot more,” Waylon pointed out with a smirk.

“Yes, I know,” Eddie sighed. “I suppose he’s not completely intolerable on a good day.”

“Thank you,” Waylon said, nudging his face up against Eddie’s shoulder.

At the very least, Waylon knew that Eddie tried for him, just as he tried for Eddie. If that wasn’t the mark of a relationship that would work in the long-term, Waylon didn’t know what was.

At least, things would be fine until Eddie realized Miles would want to be the minister. But they weren’t gonna talk about that for a good, long while.


End file.
